Pulling the curtain aside to peer
at the row after row of Siamese twin houses,
a snittering of snow like powdered sugar
touches the dead grass, the roofs of parked cars,
the fire hydrant. Leaning forward I see
an empty purple vase on a peeling deck across the street,
the lid of a chiminea rears back
like the bronze head of the sculpture in St Anne's Plaza.
I must go now – go to the hospital room with bars,
to Mother, with her face
like a prayer rug on fire.
Joan Saunders love of poetry began at a very early age, when she carried around Robert Lewis Stevenson's, A Child's Garden of Verses constantly and stood on the kitchen table, reciting the poems from memory. She began writing poetry herself 10 years ago and since then, it has become a passion. She has studied poetry with well-known poets – Marge Piercy, Billy Collins and a host of others and currently hosts a weekly poetry workshop in her home, with seven other poets.